


Molto inaspettato (Very unexpected)

by Saso_615



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saso_615/pseuds/Saso_615
Summary: The cold of the winter brings two together. A certain European visits his friend from Canada. Such a strange yet fitting pair end up spending precious time together on this very special time of year.
Relationships: Quebec/South Italy (Hetalia)
Kudos: 2





	Molto inaspettato (Very unexpected)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt : Red wine  
> Theme song : The lazy song by Bruno Mars
> 
> Modern world Hetalia, December 2019 and this was just for fun. Self-indulging fanfic bc I'm pretty sure no one would ever think of this ship. 
> 
> Quebec and Romano as a pair--or, as I like to call it, romabec.

* * *

With a bottle of ‘ _ Luce Della Vite Lucente _ ’, a certain Italian, still not used to the cold winters of Canada, was making his way to a friend’s house. The french Canadian was too busy preparing dinner for both of them to go pick the other up at the airport, annoying the brunette. Not only was he unfamiliar with the province, but the taxi somehow couldn’t find the address his friend sent him when he landed earlier that afternoon. He texted the Quebecois a few times, leaving him with no answer. Calling him was his last hope and the taxi driver, who honestly couldn’t shut up, wasn’t making it easier. His terribly deep french accent ruined every english word and made himself incomprehensible. 

“Per favore, pick up, pick up…” The impatient European muttered as he ignored the driver’s nonsense. 

_______________

Meanwhile, the stunning french Canadian was getting the tourtière out of the oven when his phone’s ringtone stopped the music he had been jamming on for the past hour. 

“Ah, caliss, c’est quoi qui veut..? (Oh, jeez, what does he want..?)” He wasn’t trying to ignore him, but cooking was already a lot of chores and he couldn’t exactly afford to waste his time answering whatever his guest was sending him. “Oh shit.” Though, he should have spared a few minutes to explain where he was located. 

“Hey, yeah, sorry about that, I was taking care of dinner. Your taxi is lost?” Caramel medium long hair was tied back into a bun with a few strands falling out of place, running the occasional hand to push back the rebellious locks. As he adjusted his 1.75 reading glasses, he explained how to get to his house through the phone. Once he was sure the other understood, he hung up and continued prepping the table ; placing plates over charger plates--on top of the table cloth--, siding cutlery, napkins and wine glasses. He then lowered the lighting of the dining room, turned the oven off and finally took a deep breath in satisfaction of the scenery. 

The Canadian walked into the bathroom to relieve himself and washed his hands. Before going back in the kitchen to keep an eye on the dessert, he took a long look at his outfit in the mirror. He would need to change quickly, forgetting to do so in advance. In his bedroom, downstairs from the main living space, he had already placed a dark blue button up shirt and dark brown pants--both recently ironed--, a belt to compliment the colours and a watch just to show off a little. He put on some deodorant in the process of undressing and covered the smell of fresh food with a light touch up of perfume before rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbows--leaving two buttons undone and tucking the front of his shirt inside his pants. He brushed his messy, wavy, dirty blonde hair to tie it in a low ponytail to complete the look. Now he looked like a real gentleman. Maybe overdoing it a little. He had to look good for one of his closest friends. 

As he was coming up the stairs, he heard knocking on the door and couldn’t help smiling a little. “Y’etait temps. (S’about time.)” He mumbled with a chuckle. The four-eyed man hurried to the front door before his guest would lose all his remaining patience. “Buonasera. (Good evening.) Entre. (Come in.)” He invited the grumpy Italian with the wave of a hand, also helping him with his baggages. 

“Yeah yeah, quit the formalities. It’s good to see you again, amico.” He hung his heavy winter coat, a gift from the aforementioned ‘amico’, took off his recently bought boots and carefully placed them next to the door. The brunette revealed wearing a gentlemanly outfit himself ; a salmon pink suit with a baby blue button up shirt and a leather black belt. He usually wore darker colours, but he was feeling inspired. 

“Yes, it’s been a while, Italia.” Quebec was one of the very few people who actually called him by his country name. It always made Romano feel a little more significant. 

Lovino entered the dining room while showing his appreciation with a smile. He could finally relax when in the presence of the only person he could genuinely call his best friend. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble making this much food for me?” 

“Didn’t you say to drop the formalities, Lovino?” The Quebecois made his way behind the kitchen island to check on the dessert in the fridge ; a surprise called ‘Tiramisu’. While he was in there, he got the Champagne out of the fridge to store in an ice-bucket. 

“You’re literally the only person I’m polite to and you’re gonna give me that shit attitude?” Lovino crossed his arms, letting out some left-over irritation from his ride since the airport. He did, however, keep a smirk. 

Jean-Louis laughed, getting out two Champagne glasses. “Non, ça m'fait plaisir de cuisiner pour toi, Italia. (No, it’s a pleasure to cook for you, Italy.)” He leaned on the counter with both hands, widely grinning at his friend for a moment. Afterwards, he took the alcohol and glasses to place on the table. 

“I’m glad, it smells nice. I hope it’s good.” 

“Molto.” 

They both took a seat across from each other. “Oh, I forgot the wine… It’s in my bag, let me get it.” Romano got up from his chair, not a second after he sat down. 

Jean-Louis took the opportunity to go on his phone, without being rude, to choose music more fitting for his guest’s arrival. Jazz will be just right, he thought with soft eyes. The first song on the playlist was Louis Armstrong’s ‘Dream a little dream of me’ with Ella Fitzgerald. It played loud enough throughout the first level of the house on his speaker. As Lovino looked for his wine, his features lit up to the sound of the song. All his stress was gone with a deep sigh and he got up with his wine bottle. 

“So, ready to eat?” Everything was prepared to perfection and Jean was confident that his European friend would love it. It wasn’t the first time he cooked for him either. 

“Si.” The other sat down again, this time he would stay until dessert. 

“I also prepared dessert for after.” 

“Really? What is it?” Vargas waited for the french Canadian to serve him some tourtière, mashed potatoes and green peas, meanwhile looking curious. ‘Cute’ was the only thought Quebec had.

“C’t’une surprise. (T’is a surprise.)” He served Romano before himself and popped the Champagne open carefully so the cork didn’t fly to the wall or ceiling. 

“You trying to impress me or seduce me? I can never tell with you.” The Italian rolled his eyes, adjusting his chair closer to the food. 

“Awh, what… you don’t like my surprises?” Quebec’s usual ideas of surprising Lovino Vargas specifically were always romance based. 

“I didn’t say that. But sometimes I wonder what that makes us…” Romano copied his friend’s action ; taking a fork and taking one big, first bite of the tourtière before attacking the mashed potatoes and peas. “Oh wow, è fantastico. (this is amazing.)” He covered his mouth in a polite motion to mumble his words, still swallowing his bite. With eyes closed and a pinkish colour setting on his cheeks, he hinted a notion of embarrassment of letting himself be impressed. 

“Merci.” He raised an eyebrow a little concerned about the first comment. “What do you mean?” He asked, eating along with Romano. 

“Well…” The latter averted his eyes from Quebec to his plate and tried thinking up a way to say what he really meant without sounding stupid. “We’re friends-- really good friends. And it’s always great coming here… But--” 

“Hey, man, I appreciate that. Means a lot coming from you.” Quebec chortled. “But that means you can be straightforward with me, hein?” 

Vargas appeared a lot more uncomfortable, the pink on his cheeks darkening with the heat he was emitting. “Uhm.. I just thought maybe we should date.” Lovino quickly stuffed his face with some more of Jean-Louis’ food, afraid of his answer. 

The Quebecois had to admit he wasn’t expecting the Italian to confess so boldly. He always thought, as a french, that he would be the one who would ask him out first. In all honesty, he was going to ask him that night. “Italia… Questo è un appuntamento. Al momento, al momento. Stavo per chiederti un secondo appuntamento dopo. (This is a date. Right now, in the present moment. I was about to ask you out for a second date after this.)” 

Golden-brown eyes lifted from his meal to meet with purple-blue orbs. He was wondering if this was some kind of joke, but his heart was telling him that all the clues pointed to exactly that. A date. “Oh… Then, I’m really fucking stupid.” 

They both exploded in laughter. 

They continued enjoying their supper and each other’s company, as they normally did, joking and gossipping about countries. They didn’t  hate the world, they just didn’t like a lot of things about it. There were certain countries they disliked and had at least that much in common. Romano always cherished their moments together since he didn’t have that with anybody else. Talking about his history with Quebec was one of the many steps he took to start trusting the province better. It took him time and patience Jean-Louis didn’t have for others, but Romano eventually opened up to him. Quebec was always complaining about France and the Italian loved every single bit. Canada seemed surprised at first, but ultimately found out why they got along so well. 

_________

When it was time for dessert, they switched from Champagne to red wine. The Quebecois got up from his chair to replace the plates with smaller ones, putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher behind the kitchen island. 

“Hey, before we get to the dessert, you want to dance a little?” Jean looked up from his bent position near the machine. 

“Dance?” Lovino turned on his seat to look behind him, only seeing a pair of eyes behind glasses and a cowlick coming from the top of his head. 

“Ouais? Quoi, you can’t dance?” Quebec teased. 

“No, no, I dance. I’m just surprised you do.” He teased back with the rise of an eyebrow. 

“Bin, voyon… You’ve seen me dance. Oh wait, no. That was Spain.” He closed the dishwasher as the realization hit him. 

“Fine, I’ll dance.” 

Quebec gave him a look of satisfaction, walking to his glass half full of wine, taking a sip and opening his phone to play Dean Martin. A classic Italian singer, perfect to sway away the night. Jean-Louis took Lovino’s right hand and led him to the small living room where a christmas tree, flickering multi-coloured lights and a long grey couch covered in pillows and a green blanket added life. Decorated with red and golden-themed ornaments, the tree really attracted the eyes of a smiling southern Italian. 

“You have good taste in everything.” His voice was low, calm. He didn’t have much of a strong tone, keeping his body close to Quebec as the songs filled the room. 

“Well, of course. I’m with you, aren’t I?” The slight height difference, barely two inches, had Romano feel safe somehow. The caramel blonde made Lovino spin around and catch him in sync with the song ; ‘That’s Amore’. 

Vargas didn’t reply. He concentrated on the beat of the song and his partner. His glasses were in the way of admiring the Canadian, therefore took them off in the middle of their dance, placing them on the dining table next to them. Jean-Louis didn’t show any sign of protest. He only smiled wider and placed his arms behind the other’s back and one hand slowly made its way up to dark locks. Lovino only closed his eyes, happy to position his arms on Quebec’s wide shoulders. His hands were already undoing his ponytail, without Quebec noticing, freely playing in his shoulder length hair. Finally finding the right moment to place a gentle kiss on top of the french Canadian’s lips. 

“You’re being so bold tonight~” The taller poked fun at the European as he stroked his left cheek with his right hand. 

“Chiudi il becco. (Shut up/shut your mouth)” The smaller one buried his face in the other’s pecs. A few chest hairs showed up from under his navy blue shirt, suggesting that he was buff and hairy. Lovino’s face resembled that of a tomato. 

“Allez, Lovino, let’s eat dessert.” 

________________________

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like me to make a small series of stories about them, I'd be glad to! For now, it was just a little break from 'O grito das gaivotas' since I've been writing this story for a while. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
